“Tell me about the elven crafts he was moving,” Dunewell said.

  “I don’t know much,” Silas said. “We have our own craftsmen who have been trained to attempt to duplicate the elven style. Father kept their workshops up at the mines. I suppose to avoid any other Houses from trying to hire them away. I know that he also imported some, jewelry, cups, and the like. Do you think that could have something to do with it?”

  Dunewell had interviewed many and interrogated many more and all had, in one way or another, attempted to turn the questions back to him. However, he chalked this up to Silas’s ever hungry mind.

  “I know, we agreed that only one of us would ask the questions,” Silas said. “It’s just so much in my nature.”

  “Tell me about his arrangements with Rugan and House Theald,” Dunewell said.

  “Many and varied is about all I can offer there,” Silas said. “I sent letters to the Houses, and visited others, to assure them our Houses’ ventures would not be impeded by any act of sabotage on my part. House Morosse’s ledgermen would be the best source of information there. I’ve instructed all of them to accommodate you, and any other inquisitors of course, and any request you might have. That’s quite an attractive niece Rugan has, isn’t she?”

  “Erin is wonderful,” Dunewell caught himself saying. “She’s… she’s not the matter we’re discussing today.”

  Why did the mere mention of Erin disrupt his thoughts so? He commanded his focus to abandon imagines of her smile; her eyes.

  “Sorry,” Silas said. “There was a meeting between father, Rugan, and Gyllorn, sorry, Lord High Inquisitor Gyllorn, about six weeks ago. I don’t know what they discussed though.”

  This was interesting. This was the third time Lord High Inquisitor Gyllorn’s name had come into his investigation. This could not be coincidence.

  “Where did they meet?”

  “At our estate,” Silas said. “They met in the library, behind closed doors.”

  “Closed even to Helena?”

  The motive for Killian’s murder was easy enough to discern. In fact, there were too many motives for it. Lady Helena’s murder, he was becoming more and more convinced, was simply a result of her being in bed with him at the time.

  “Yes.”

  “Did she ever confide in you any suspicions or concerns?”

  “No,” Silas said. “I was never her favorite person. No, you don’t need to defend her. I understand it and accepted the fact years ago. I was not the son that would follow in her warrior’s footsteps. She never mistreated me. She just… well… you understand.”

  This wounded Dunewell’s heart to hear. He knew the truth of it and had known for years. It pained him that he had been unable to mend whatever had caused that chasm between Silas and Lady Helena.

  “Tell me about the Lord High Inquisitor’s relationship with Killian.”

  “Father was usually quiet about business,” Silas said. “I would say that they met often enough to be considered friends, but father didn’t really have any friends. I hadn’t really thought about it before, but after those meetings there was often an argument between them. Mother and father, I mean. I was never able to fully understand what those arguments were about. I assume something to do with Gyll… Lord High Inquisitor Gyllorn. But, as I’ve said, their business never interested me much.”

  There was something there, just then. Dunewell knew it. There was something about the Lord High Inquisitor Silas hated. It wasn’t a mere dislike, it was hatred. Had he done something to Lady Helena? She had not been an ideal mother to Silas, in fact she had stood aside while Killian subjected him to his many means of torture. However, she had also been the one that brought him and Silas together. If there was another person in this world Silas would defend other than Dunewell, it was Lady Helena.

  “If he were implicated, could you proceed?” Silas asked. “Would the investigation have to be undertaken by someone of… of higher rank?”

  That confirmed it for Dunewell. Silas hoped Dunewell would be able to act against the Lord High Inquisitor where he could not.

  “When did Killian and the Lord High Inquisitor first begin to have these meetings?” Dunewell asked.

  “I don’t really know,” Silas said. “I remember him coming around when he was an Inquisitor, before there was any ‘Lord High’ added to it. I was maybe six or seven years old when he was promoted. So, at least twenty years or more.”

  “Is there anything else that I need to know that I failed to ask you?”

  “I’m quite sure there is,” Silas said. “However, I don’t know what it would be. There is something… something odd. I’ve never told you about it because I thought it would only serve to make you angry with no recourse. It… well, it was only an intuition, anyway.”

  Dunewell twirled his finger a bit impatiently. How many witnesses had left out some key piece of information out of their own ignorance? Just as many, he supposed, as brought up all sorts of extraneous drivel to pile onto an already complex problem.

  “I always thought that Lady Evalynne had… that she had designs on father,” Silas said. “I’m not aware of any evidence indicating such a thing. But; I don’t know, I always thought she sort of flirted with him. It may have just been to make Helena angry. Those two never liked one another.”

  Silas turned and looked out the window. Dunewell’s thoughts turned inward. He remembered thinking it a bit odd that she did not attend the funeral. How might that fit in?

  “Did Lady Evalynne visit often?” Dunewell finally asked.

  “No more often that she did the other Houses in Moras, I suppose,” Silas said. “Official events, galas intended to promote one business venture or another; that sort of thing.”

  Dunewell decided it was time to wrap this up. He had too many leads and he had a feeling that things were already in motion and he was falling behind.

  “One last question, did you murder them?”

  Silas smiled. Had it been anyone else that smile would have set off warning bells for Dunewell. However, Dunewell understood Silas better than most. He understood how he might see humor in the question.

  “Killian, many times in my heart,” Silas said. “Helena, for what reason? I was never the son she wanted but I accepted that many years ago.”

  Dunewell waited, knowing that Silas was well aware that he failed to answer the question.

  “I did not end their lives by stabbing them, either of them, through the throat,” Silas said. “I am not the one to hang for these murders.”

  There was something in that statement that also hung in his brain like a fishhook. Just like the clothing… There! There was something about their clothing at the scene! Dunewell made a mental note to review his sketches and notes on that matter.

  “I suppose, then, it is time for me to tell you what I can,” Dunewell said. “I discovered a shipment stolen from one of your warehouses. I did not recover it, for to have done so would have given me away. The shipment was of elven crafted jewelry or other various pieces of fancy wares. It was taken, with the aid of some of your labormen, by Rugan. He had crates moved to two different warehouses of his, and some onto one of House Theald’s ships. Do you have anything to drink?”

  “Of course,” Silas said. “Coffee?”

  “That will do fine,” Dunewell said.

  Silas stirred the coals in the small iron stove that in the corner. He fed a few smaller pieces of wood into the fire within and placed a kettle atop the stove.

  “I watched Rugan for some time hoping that he would be meeting with a confederate of some sort. Eventually a swordsman wearing the colors of House Despion arrived. They had a heated argument about something and Rugan backed the swordsman off the ship.”

  “Rugan? I never took him as particularly physically imposing.”

  “That was an interesting development,” Dunewell said. “I believe he had a rust wolf on a leash.”

  “Rust wolf?”

  “Yes,” Dunewell said.

  Dunewell realized he really should have expected this reaction. Silas had been completely nonplused about his people selling him out, theft of his property, and a possible conspiracy of Houses against him. The item that drew his attention? A new species of animal he had yet to study.

  “An unusual animal from far south of here, near Split Town,” Dunewell said, indulging Silas’s curiosity. “By size and markings, they appeared to be as any other wolf, however, their breath can vaporize metal.”

  “Astonishing!”

  Silas rose and poured a cup of coffee for both of them and then returned to his stool.

  “Interesting creatures, I suppose,” Dunewell said. “I talked to a man once that knew of them. He said they must be hunted with wooden or bone weapons. He said they could defeat any armor or blade of metal in seconds.”

  “Anyway,” Dunewell continued, “I had one of the shipments inspected for tax duties. All the markings were in order, however, the watchman, Keryk is his name, noticed that the markings indicated the crates came in by ship. He also noticed there was no evidence, physical marring or discoloration and the like, that those crates had ever been on a ship. Within were the elven, or elven styled, crafts I mentioned earlier.”

  “Watchman Keryk sounds like a sharp man,” Silas said.

  “You don’t sound too upset or surprised about the theft of your goods,” Dunewell said. “Or about Rugan’s apparent betrayal of trust.”

  “I have every confidence you’ll sort it out,” Silas said. “As for Rugan, well, all the people in Moras I trust are in this room. I dare say the behavior of the rest of them would little surprise me. This watchman, Keryk, will he be around to cover your flank, as you military men say?”

  “I do well on my own, but; to answer your question, yes,” Dunewell said. “I’m speaking to his sergeant later today about reassigning him, for the time being.”

  Dunewell didn’t need Keryk to cover his flank; he needed him to help with the leg work. He needed good eyes on House Morosse’s mining operation. He needed someone to watch Rugan. He needed to learn more about the tie between House Despion and House Theald. Perhaps Erin would know something. His thoughts drifted toward her for a moment before he caught himself. There was much to be done, and soon.

  “Good,” Silas said. “That is very good to hear. No news from any witnesses then?”

  “Nothing substantial,” Dunewell said. “One fellow claimed to have seen black smoke coming from one of the chimneys at House Morosse. The poor fellow thought it a vampire.”

  Silas laughed. Dunewell thought the laugh a bit strained but, as with his witness, he was often reminded of the specter vampires cast over the uninitiated.

  “House Morosse is under my Stewardship now, and those quarters at Blackstone are quite drab. Would you consider moving to House Morosse? I assure you the company would be far superior to what you enjoy in your barracks.”

  Dunewell smiled. Perhaps Silas was more worried about vampires than he’d given heed to. He wasn’t sure how he would feel sleeping in Killian’s manor. There had never been any animosity between them that Dunewell knew of. Yet still, given his treatment of Silas certainly, Dunewell had not cared for the man.

  “Kind of you to offer,” Dunewell said. “I’ll consider it, after this business is resolved.”

  “Of course,” Silas said. “Once it’s resolved.”

  Chapter IX

  The Family Business

  “Jaime, you understand what I need you to do?” Silas asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Jaime said, not taking his eyes from the silver coin pinched between Silas’s thumb and king finger.

  “Repeat it back to me,” Silas said.

  “I’m to mark the third stone in and fourth up from the gate in front of that wizard tower,” Jaime said. “I mark it with an ‘x’ with a line under it.”

  “Good lad,” Silas said. “Where did you get this coin?”

  “Found it, sir,” Jaime said, smiling.

  “Good lad.”

  Silas handed over the coin and Jaime sprinted from the examination room. Silenstui would be along soon enough and would likely not raise a brow at Silas’s current study. Silas moved to the door that locked away his vials, tonics, and herbs and produced a key from his pocket. Unlocking the door, a door Dunewell had sat next to not half an hour prior, Silas opened it and hauled the body from within.

  Once the vampire’s latest victim was on the examination table, Silas went to his usual practice. He carefully studied the clothing, the soles of the simple leather shoes, the fingernails, the teeth, and the graying orbs that had served for eyes to the deceased. From time to time he would stop to make a note or two on a piece of parchment nearby.

  It struck him that there was no involuntary loss of bodily fluid. There was no sign of urine or feces on the specimen’s clothing. This indicated the use of either some sort of paralytic or calming agent. Fascinating!

  His initial examination done; he removed the fellow’s clothing. Livor mortis had fully settled, obscuring any evidence of bruising on the subject’s lower extremities. However, Silas didn’t expect to find anything of interest there. He did notice that the coloration was a bit dark.

  Livor mortis, sometimes called lividity or hypostasis, was the occurrence of blood settling to the lowest areas of the body once the heart ceased pumping. This pooling caused the blood to gather or settle in those areas, in turn causing discoloration. Silas had found measuring the varying degrees of livor mortis a useful means of determining a time of death.

  Silas made a slight incision in the subject’s heel and collected a sample of the blood pooled there. He mixed a portion of it with a clear liquid in a vial and poured another portion into a nearby flame. He was amazed.

  The color and smell of the smoke indicated blood bereft of life for weeks although this subject had clearly not been dead for more than a few days at most. The blood failed to mix with the potion he’d prepared which also indicated the blood was from a creature that had been dead for closer to a month. His mind swirled with possibilities.

  After several minutes of work Silas had drained all the blood from his subject and found that every bit of it was consistent with his sample. This man’s body had been dead for a day; two at the most. However, his blood had been absent life for weeks!

  He had always assumed, from Dunewell’s stories and the accounts that he’d read, that vampires drank blood from their victims. These results indicated that was not exactly the case. This man was not missing blood. Given the quantity collected, there wasn’t so much as half a pint missing from the body.

  Silas examined the neck wound more closely and confirmed his thesis. The outer edges of the punctures on the bottom, the grouping of three, were pulled out slightly, evidence of the drawing of blood. However, the upper two punctures were indented, consistent with the flow of fluid into the victim rather than away. Vampires did not consume their victim’s blood, not exactly. They exchanged it with their own!

  Silas reasoned their bodies must acquire some form of nutrition from the fresh blood. So, as they took in the fresh blood, the spent blood was injected into their victim. Dunewell’s stories, once analyzed in this light, made perfect sense. Vampires who’d freshly fed were fierce and possessed of uncommon strength and power. Vampires who fed often were quite vigorous. Vampires, tracked for days on end without rest or reprieve, were discovered to be weak by the standards of their species and easily dispatched. What a wondrous discovery!

  “What are you so gleeful about?” Silenstui asked from behind Silas.

  He was startled but maintained his composure.

  “A discovery that I believe will prove most valuable,” Silas said, working to control his enthusiasm. “I need a favor.”

  “Finally, my debt will be paid?”

  “Not quite,” Silas said as he dug in his coat pocket for a coin purse. “I need you to purchase something for me. This task is menial, and for that I apologize. However, it will require one with the Touch to determine the true quality of an item. About this there can be no mistake.”

  “What item?” Silenstui asked.

  Silas handed him the purse.

  “I need a rider’s pike, a stiletto, of volcanic glass, of leiness,” Silas said. “I’ll also need an exact duplicate of it in fine steel. I need you to procure it for me.”

  “Only a very few select markets would deal in such an exotic weapon,” Silenstui said.

  “I’m well aware of their rarity and the difficulties associated with the procurement,” Silas said. “You and your robed and enchanted friends enjoy a certain reputation. Very few talk about your affairs and even fewer question them. You’ll talk to Lechann in the Upper Market. He’s received the order and should have it ready by now. He should also have a pair of leather bracers prepared. A note with the specifications and partial payment has been delivered to him anonymously. I need you to present the final payment, collect the items, and then bring them to me, here.”

  “You’re not involving me in some plot, are you?”

  “I am being investigated for murder,” Silas said. “And, if you must know, my life has been threatened. I need a weapon I can easily conceal and carry on my person without raising suspicion. Change your appearance if you like. But, Lechann is being paid well enough to forget your appearance and, for that matter, the transaction as a whole.”

  “Then we’ll be even?”

  “Not even close,” Silas said with no animosity in his voice. “There are many wonderous tomes at your disposal that I should like to peruse. I know I must settle on one, therefore, I prefer to make my choice after careful consideration.”

  “Very well,” Silenstui said as he raised his arms to begin his spell.

  “Wait!”

  “What?”

  “You can only teleport to places you’ve been before, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “When you arrive, the tracks you leave originate where you land?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if you’ve never been to a place before but wish to teleport there?”

  “There are ways around it, I suppose,” Silenstui said. “An enchanted marker can be dropped by an agent of ours. Powerful mages can teleport to places only described to them, although that involves no small amount of risk.”

 

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